Abstract
The New Orleans Hornets basketball arena floor smelled of heat, sweat, and doom. Fire alarms were still screaming, albeit in an everdecreasing frequency and pitch, as their strobes called for attention that wasn’t going to arrive. The only constant source of light was red exit signs around the ring of the arena. Two Disaster Medical Assistance Team (DMAT) tents, surrounded by dozens of black Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) tote boxes, were barely visible at one end of the arena. Opposite the loading dock entrance sat abandoned DMAT sport utility vehicles (SUVs), 3 feet of dark brown floodwater lapping at the loading dock beyond. My DMAT team surrounded the commander and listened to his message: The patients we would see were suffering from disorders exacerbated from stress and lack of drugs for 5 days…. My first mission as a disaster pharmacist had begun.
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